


First

by scribblemoose



Series: Wayside [7]
Category: Saiyuki
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-23
Updated: 2005-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-08 21:11:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemoose/pseuds/scribblemoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fifteen-year-old Gojyo meets a woman in a bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First

It would be easier if Hakkai ever got drunk. But he didn't. Ever. And Gojyo did. It took a long while - much to his chagrin when he was younger, short of cash and needed oblivion in a hurry - but it happened eventually.

This was one of those nights, when they'd been playing cards for hours, and Hakkai was winning and Gojyo was getting drunk. Not slap face-down-on-the-table drunk, but far enough out of it that he was saying things he wouldn't usually say. And Hakkai was so damn tolerant he didn't even think of stopping him.

Or maybe he was just curious.

Either way, it wasn't fair.

Anyway, it got to that time when Gojyo's mouth was running away with him, and for some absurd reason he said:

"So, was Kanan your first?"

It would have served him right if Hakkai had gone dark and silent, very politely surrendered the game and said goodnight.

But he didn't.

"She was the only woman who meant anything," is what he'd said.

Calm as you like. Looking back on it from his current sober position, Gojyo wondered at that. Wondered why Hakkai would even answer the question, never mind so... honestly. And wondered why he, Gojyo, had been such an asshole as to not even follow up on it.

He'd grunted. Just grunted, and gone back to dealing cards while his addled brain tried to make sense of things and his right eye squinched up against the smoke that drifted into it; the perfect silence for Hakkai to plunge into.

"What about you, Gojyo?"

"Eh?" He started to deal.

"You haven't told me much about your girlfriends. Has there ever been anyone special?"

"They're all special," Gojyo said with a wink.

Hakkai laughed politely. "I'm sure they are, Gojyo-san."

"I used to think maybe one day..." Gojyo shrugged. "They're all the same, really. Well, the girls round here, anyway. The ones that want me don't want hearts and flowers, if you know what I mean. So no. No-one special."

They picked up their cards, and there was a pause for shuffling and rearrangement. Gojyo frowned deliberately, doing his best to hide any reflection of the satisfaction he felt at his hand from showing on his face.

"What about the first girl you..."

"The first girl I...?" Gojyo shoved a pile of coins into the middle of the table.

"Went with," said Hakkai. "Raise you ten."

"It's a long story."

Hakkai simply raised an eyebrow.

Gojyo could have laughed it off. Or made something up. Would have, if it had been anyone else.

But it was late and he was drunk, and this was Hakkai. It was disturbing, how hard it had become for him to keep anything from Hakkai.

So he told him.

*******

When Gojyo was fifteen he'd washed up in a town about thirty miles south of Chang'An, pretty much penniless after some incident with a bunch of youkai and a travelling merchant that he wasn't very proud of. Being penniless didn't bother him much: he'd already discovered he had a talent for cards and failing that he was strong and healthy, and with summer turning into autumn there was plenty of work for broad shoulders in the nearby farming villages.

That first night, however, hard labour was far from his mind. Gojyo wanted food, beer and a bed after weeks on the road, preferably in that order. The first he could afford to pay for, and the second he'd long since found could be procured for little or no money with the application of a little careful charm, and if he had enough of it the third wouldn't matter any more. He had a range of strategies, but on this occasion he found giving the barmaid a particularly helpless, beguiling look served very nicely, and before he knew it he was sitting with a full belly and a pleasant buzz from the first alcohol in several days warming his very soul. He scanned the bar with eyes far shrewder than any fifteen year old should have, on the prowl for an easy mark. Some rich, lonely soul who would be willing to keep him drinking all night for the sake of someone to listen to their boring, sad life stories.

As it happened, this time it was a woman.

She was sitting in a dark corner, hood up, clearly not too keen on being seen. The stool she kicked out for Gojyo positioned him neatly between her and most of the other patrons, and he suspected that her interest in him was at least partly as a shield to hide behind. But he didn't care, much.

They talked for a while and he found he liked her. She laughed at his stories and didn't ask any awkward questions. She didn't skimp on the beer either; even though she was barely drinking herself she bought the best in the house for him. He was relaxed and pleasantly mellow when she asked him if he wanted to go upstairs with her.

He hesitated.

It had come up before, of course, with men and women, but something always stopped him. Fear, usually, of one kind or another.

Her fingers found his and slipped between them; a jolt of pure pleasure shot up his arm and he was hard in seconds, or so it felt. His mouth was dry; there was noise in his head and confusion trapped his tongue. He looked her in the eye, as best he could considering her face was shadowed.

"We don't have to do anything," she'd said. "We can just talk."

"Okay," he croaked out, uncertainly. "If... okay."

So he followed her upstairs, her hand warm and soft in his, her cloak plush velvet brushing against his bare arm. She led him down a dark corridor to a heavy wooden door, second from last on the right. There was a back entrance, he noticed, in the opposite wall. As they entered the room the first thing he noticed was the window, big and unlocked, overlooking the stable yard.

The second thing he noticed was the bed. A huge four-poster, somewhat lumpy-looking and covered with an old patchwork quilt.

Gojyo hadn't slept in a bed for a long time. Certainly not a bed like that.

"Come and sit down. My name's Li-lian. What's yours?"

"Sha Gojyo."

He followed her into the room; the cloak came off with a swish to reveal a fall of dark hair, almost to her waist. She looked over her shoulder at him as she laid her cloak over the back of a chair by the bed. "That's better."

"You didn't want to be seen."

She shrugged. "There's people that might cause trouble if they knew I was here."

"Oh. Well, don't worry. I won't tell anyone."

She was young, much younger than he'd thought. Her voice was deep and rich, and she moved with a confidence he associated with someone of authority, but she didn't look so very much older than him. A few years, maybe. No more than twenty.

"I know. That's why I asked you here."

"Is there something you... want?"

A smile dimpled her cheeks. "Yes, Sha Gojyo, there is. Come on, sit down."

She took the chair, leaving only the bed. Gojyo sat down cautiously, grateful for the canopy which cast shadows across his face, hopefully hiding the nervousness he knew was there. "What is it?"

"Two things. First, an errand."

"An errand?"

She nodded. "There's a message I need to be delivered to the Priest at the Temple of the Blue River. It's in the mountains not far from here. I'll pay you well."

That sounded promising, and delivering messages appealed a lot more than working in the fields. "I can do that."

"Splendid. I'll pay half; you'll get the other half when you reach the temple."

"Fair enough."

She reached out her hand; he blinked at it for a moment before he realised that she meant for him to shake it. Her clasp was soft but her handshake firm, and the moment her skin touched his he wanted her. Not with the passing interest with which he'd grown accustomed to wanting every passing waitress or farm girl he happened upon, but with a deep, gnawing hunger that made his belly flutter and his limbs weak.

"And the other thing?" His voice didn't crack. He was grateful for that, at least.

She laughed, a rich, throaty sound that resonated around the room. "I'd like your company for the night, Gojyo."

He swallowed hard. "For...?"

"I'm lonely, and you're... nice. You're a good listener. I have to be so careful, and it's good to meet someone I can actually talk to without them trying to take advantage."

"Oh." He let that sink in for a moment, as a tang of regret faded, washed away by relief. A smile spread across his face. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Okay then." He tugged off his boots and settled himself cross-legged on the bed. "What would you like to talk about?"

That laugh again, and now he could see it reflected in her eyes. She was pretty. Dark waves of hair framed her face; her eyes were a sort of hazel-green and she had a cute snub nose. She wore a gold chain around her neck from which hung a teardrop pendant, a glittering purple stone that nestled between her breasts. It looked expensive.

"Let's talk about..." she twirled a strand of hair around her forefinger as she considered. "I know, books. What's your favourite book, Gojyo?"

He shrugged. "I don't read much. What's yours?"

"The epic of Granuaile. Have you read it?"

"Nah. Like I said, don't read much."

"It's about a pirate. A woman pirate, can you believe such a thing?"

Gojyo didn't have a lot of experience with women, but he'd knew enough that he could well believe some of them at least had piratical urges. "Really?"

She rummaged around in her cloak and produced a pack of cigarettes, offered him one. He accepted eagerly: it had been a while since he'd been able to afford any and he'd learned early on that asking for them made him seem young and desperate, which were bad signals to give out to people.

She held out a silver lighter for him and struck a flame; he lit the cig and sucked in a blissful lungful of smoke. "Thanks."

She stuck her own cigarette between her teeth to light it, one leg hooked over the arm of the chair, long skirt pooling between her thighs. She tossed her hair back over her shoulders and the look she gave Gojyo made his heart thud.

"Are you alright?" she said.

"F... fine." Gojyo took a comforting drag on his cigarette. "You're very beautiful. But I guess all the guys tell you that." Cursing himself even as the words spilled out, unbidden and unstoppable.

"Sometimes." She smiled at him, those dimples again. "You're very attractive yourself."

Gojyo's fingers went, without thought, to his hair. "No. It's kind of you to say so, but... no."

"I bet your girlfriend thinks so."

"I don't have a girlfriend."

"Really? Oh, perhaps-"

"There's no-one," said Gojyo quickly. "I prefer it that way." Which was a lie. But it was a good one; he'd used it so often now it felt comfortably real, if not precisely true.

"I see. Independent, huh?"

"It's easier."

She nodded. "I understand. It takes a special sort of courage, to remain alone."

"What about you?"

Another of those smiles. "I'm as free as cherry blossom on a warm spring breeze, Gojyo. Free as air." She brushed something that might have been a bit of ash from her leg, then left her hand resting there, idly stroking the silky fabric of her skirt. Not a travelling skirt. It fell over and between her legs in liquid folds, sky blue patterned with birds. Silk.

"That's good," he murmured. "To be free."

"Yes. It is."

Their eyes met. Gojyo's heart thudded in his chest. "Li-lian..."

"Yes." She stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray by the bed.

"I..."

"Come here."

"What?"

"Just... come here."

He was fairly sure he couldn't move, but desire shot through Gojyo like a thunderbolt; he found himself smirking. "Or you could come here..."

Her eyes flared; she licked her lips and in a second she'd joined him on the bed. Kneeling next to him, reaching out a hand towards him, combing back the hair he kept so very carefully draped across his scars, leaning in to kiss him.

Her lips were soft, her tongue tiny and wet and very insistent as it wriggled its way into his mouth. Gojyo let it in, flicked it with his own, sucked gently on the tip. He'd been told he was good at this, he reminded himself, forcing himself to relax and breathe through his nose, curling his fingers through her hair to stroke the nape of her neck. She murmured something he couldn't quite make out and slipped her hand inside his jacket, rubbing the soft cotton of his shirt across his belly. He gasped.

"I'm sorry," she said, moving her kisses to his face, his jaw, his neck. "When I said I only wanted to talk..."

"Mmm?" Gojyo's eyes flickered shut as her tongue darted out to lick his ear.

"I lied."

"Oh..." He could feel her breath, a warm whisper over his wet skin.

"Do you mind?"

"No, I..." How could he mind? She was wrapping her arms around him, kissing him, holding him. The fear was still there, coiled in his belly like a threat, but it felt too good to fight. Much, much too good. "I... yes... that's... fine."

He felt her smile into his neck; her arms looped around him and hugged. "Oh good."

He took a minute to put out his own cigarette, grinding it on top of hers. Then his hand settled on the rustle of silk that lay over her knee and moved in circles, daring to caress the flesh underneath. She didn't stop him. Not even when he moved his hand half way up her thigh, kissing her to distract her but not really needing to. Not like the farm girls. There was no wriggling away, no giggled admonishments or excuses or reasons or feeble apologies; just long, heated kisses and her breasts pushing into his chest, and the scent of her hair; smoke and bars and just a trace of perfume or maybe shampoo. Gojyo drowned in it.

He very slowly slipped his hand under her skirt, fingers thrilling to the touch of smooth, warm skin. Muscles stretching as she shifted one long leg to slide across his.

"Oh Gojyo..." Her breasts quivered against his chest as she gasped for breath. "You feel so good." She was sliding his jacket off over his shoulders; he fidgeted his arms out of the sleeves, anxious to not stop touching, to not let her stop holding him, to not let her change her mind.

"You feel, um, good too." Wishing his brain were working, wanting to say something clever and seductive and not so fucking lame. But it was hopeless. He wanted too much, and what wasn't wanting was scared, nervous, and that wasn't helping either.

She slid around, straddling him now, tugging his shirt up over his back. He let her slip it off, hoping she wouldn't notice how skinny he was. He thought he probably ought to be doing something in return but he wasn't sure what, worried that any move to undress her could result in outrage and slapped faces and humiliation. So he just kissed her instead, one hand still stroking her thigh, the other safe in her hair. She flicked her tongue at his, making little throaty noises and wriggling in his lap. He was hard like rock and she had to be able to feel it, the way she was grinding against him, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Oh Gojyo..." And the whisper of his name sent a shiver down his spine. "Is this alright?"

"Yes," he squeaked. "Is it... are you..."

"I'm fine." The broad smile that lit her eyes helped to prove her point.

Gojyo boldly advanced his hand a little further up her thigh, dragging her skirt up at the same time. She rewarded him with a delicious wriggle. "You're sure..." Gojyo muttered.

"Oh yes. I mean..." She leaned back a little, arms wound around Gojyo's neck. "I don't want you to think I do this with just anyone. I'm not a whore. It's just..." She kissed his mouth, his chin, his nose. "I feel such a connection with you. You're special, Gojyo."

He closed his eyes. Not trusting the feelings that were welling up inside of him, not daring to even think. Concentrating on silky skin and soft lips and quivering breasts and her arms holding him and that was all.

He trailed shaking fingers down her cheekbone, petted her cute little nose, stroked her lips, her chin, her neck, her collarbone, and settled to draw tiny circles on the satin-soft curve of her breast. Keeping her eyes firmly on his she pulled a scrap of ribbon and her blouse fell open; he could see her nipple, stiff and rosy pink. His face must have given something away, because her expression changed; her smile was different, soft, indulgent.

She took his hand and slipped it inside her open shirt. He palmed her breast, heavy and warm and amazingly soft. His thumb grazed her nipple and she gasped.

"Your mouth..." she murmured. "Take it in your mouth."

He ducked his head and closed his lips around her nipple; she swept back his hair so she could watch. Arched her back, legs closing around his waist, and moaned. She tasted good, like cherries or maybe strawberries, or maybe just skin but sweeter, and his cock ached, fucking ached for her. Her pendant swung against his cheek, cool and smooth.

She stripped the tie from his hair and spread it out over his shoulders, running her fingers through the long crimson strands as he sucked and licked and tried to be gentle.

"Hey, Gojyo."

He looked up, guilty, terrified he was doing this wrong.

But she was smiling at him.

"Don't forget the other one."

He grinned back with a wash of relief, then set to work freeing her other breast from her blouse, cupping it and kissing it, flicking at the nipple with his tongue.

She rewarded him with a gasp and a giggle, wriggling in his lap again.

Much more of this and he'd come in his pants. Gojyo tried to blank his mind and concentrate on a few logistical problems. Like, whether he should take her shirt off, or wait until she did it herself. Whether his hand would get slapped away if he slid it further up her thigh. Whether she really liked him at all, or if that was just a lie...

No. Not that.

Couldn't think about that. Pointless. Stupid.

Didn't matter.

"Gojyo..."

She tilted his face up, kissed him briefly. "Yeah?" He was smiling, he could feel it, but his mind was racing with what ifs.

"You want to fuck me?"

He blinked. The way she said 'fuck', kind of elegant in that educated sort of accent, sent a thrill up his spine and terrorised him all at the same time.

"Yes," he said, his voice so deep it startled him. "Yeah, fuck, yeah."

He held his breath. She ground herself against him, he could feel the heat of her through his jeans, even.

"Good," she said. "And, Gojyo...?"

"Uh?" His hands flattened over her lower back, keeping her pressed against him.

"Have you fucked anyone before?"

He fully intended to lie. He'd always known it wouldn't do to confess virginity. A girl liked to know a man was in control, would treat her right, not some lame, ignorant...

"No," he breathed. "Not... no."

Shit.

He waited for the disappointment to cloud her pretty face. But it didn't. Instead her eyes went wide and there was heat there, desire flaring and the corner of her delicate, rose-pink mouth twitched. "Oh Gojyo," she purred.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, my love. Don't be. I'll take good care of you, you'll see."

"Take... care... of?"

"You're a natural, I can tell. Just follow your instincts, and you'll be fine."

He felt suddenly, terribly, out of his depth. "I shouldn't take advantage of you," he said.

She just laughed. "Oh, Gojyo, that's sweet, but really, there's no need to worry. Are you nervous?"

"No." He frowned. "'Course not."

"Okay. Well, let's just go back to where we were and see what happens, okay?"

He shrugged, as nonchalantly as he could manage, and kissed her. Hard enough it made her squeak, her arms wrapping tighter around him, her body shifting closer, breasts bouncing against his bare chest. He shivered. Smoothed his hand further up her thigh until he met a scrap of lace.

Her lips hummed against his, her fingers tangled in his hair. She wriggled a bit and he cupped her ass, tugging her closer still. She giggled and shoved forwards, pushing him off balance so that he tumbled backwards. Suddenly she was straddling his thighs and playing with the top button of his jeans, and he could only watch helplessly as she undid them. One at a time, watching him all the while.

He held his breath. He wasn't wearing underwear. And any minute now she'd find out...

"Damn, that's sexy," she muttered, her attention now very firmly on the contents of his jeans. "You always go around like that?"

"Mostly." His voice ended in a kind of squeak as she hooked her fingers around his cock and fished it out.

"Easy access. I like it."

He wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed or turned on or just plain confused. He settled for an uncomfortable combination of all three.

And then she had his cock in her mouth and it took all he had just not to come.

"Li-lian..."

Her hand found his: relaxed, sinuous fingers wrapped around his tight, trembling ones. Her thumb stroked his palm as her tongue wriggled around the head of his cock. Every muscle in his body went tight; his back arched; his head scrubbed back on the quilt and gasped for breath.

He'd never felt anything like that. Never even imagined...

He squeaked a warning, but she didn't move. Next he knew he was pumping come down her throat, mortified for just a second before the pleasure took hold. She didn't choke, didn't move away even, just sucked and licked the life from him until he was done, limp and panting, and when he dared open his eyes she was smiling down at him, a tiny bead of semen at the corner of her mouth.

Without thinking he tugged her down and licked it away, kissed her long and deep, tasting himself on her tongue. He was still hard. Still wanting, in a twisted sort of way; it made his balls ache to think of coming again, but he wanted it just as much as he had a couple of minutes ago. A word popped into his head as he rolled her over, dizzy with it: insatiable. That's how he felt. Insatiable.

She growled at him, clawing at his back as he shoved her skirt up over her hips and stripped off her tiny knickers. Wishing he had the nerve to tear them, but he didn't, quite. He parted her thighs and rolled between them, kissed her hard, licked her nipples, groaned to feel the silky wetness of her on the head of his still-tingling cock.

She reached a hand between them to guide him inside, but it didn't take much. His dick seemed to know where to go, feeling its way instinctively between soft folds, pushing through scant resistance and _there_. Buried, engulfed in hot, wet velvet, her legs and arms wrapped around him, her mouth soft, lips fluttering against his. Closer than he'd felt to any other human being. Ever. He whimpered.

She started to move, rocking slow and gentle, her cunt clutching at his cock in little spasms. He buried his fingers in her hair, nuzzled her neck, breathed her in. Deep. Slow. Real. Close.

He was glad, then, that he'd already come. His body settled down a bit, left him with enough brain that he could think, respond to her, please her, although he didn't really know how. Fortunately she didn't leave him in the dark; she took his fingers and showed him where to touch, whispered soft in his ear to tell him how she liked it, fast, slow, faster, faster, faster, _now_...

She came hard, clenching around him like a vice, wringing his own orgasm out of him just a second later. More luck than judgement; he wouldn't have lasted much longer anyway. She arched back and screamed, and this time her nails left marks on his skin. As the spasms faded he tugged her up with one arm and held her so tight they could hardly breathe, moaning softly in her hair as he rocked her back and forth. She wrapped herself around him in return, arms and legs crossed round his back, soft kisses over his neck, his shoulder.

In the hours that followed, she showed him everything.

She let him explore her secrets with eyes and taste and touch; she lay there on the bed watching with an amused kind of smile as he revelled in her as if she were a new toy.

She taught him how to please her, how to find the places that made her pant and moan and come sticky-wet all over his hand and tongue. She showed him things about himself he'd never dreamed of.

And in between times they lay and smoked, and talked about their dreams. Hers were far more interesting than his. She wanted to travel, she said, to see the world and have adventures and become a famous artist. Gojyo hadn't thought of it that way much. Travel for him usually meant moving on after some sort of disaster. But the way she described it...

She told him, as he finally drifted off to sleep in her arms, that she thought she might be falling in love with him.

He'd never felt so scared, or so good, in his whole life.

And in the morning, she was gone.

She'd left the envelope for him to take to the temple, and twice the money she'd promised. And a half-finished pack of cigarettes. He dressed quickly and ran downstairs, hoping, somehow, that she'd be there waiting for him. She wasn't, of course, and she'd left no message - he hated himself but he couldn't stop himself from asking. He ordered coffee and took it outside into the early morning sunshine. He sat on a bench in front of the inn, smoking and watching kids play in the dirt.

She hadn't wanted to be seen, he reminded himself, despite the sinking feeling in his stomach. That's why she left early. He'd see her again. He'd come back here when he'd run her errand and she'd be there, in the corner where he'd first found her. Waiting for him.

He caught a drift of laughter from the kitchen. The serving girls from the inn. He tuned into their conversation without even really thinking about it.

"Did you see him? Last night?"

"Li-lian's new toy?" There was giggling.

"I swear they get younger."

"He was so her type. Did you see? Red hair and eyes, you know what that means, don't you?"

"No? What?"

"He's a half-breed. Half youkai, half human. A child of taboo."

A gasp. "No! Really?"

"I swear. Can you imagine what they'd say up at the big house if they knew?"

"Her father would go spare. I tell you, she gets closer to the wire every time."

"Well, it's all a game to her." A touch of bitterness to the voice, making it harsh. "She comes down here for a bit of rough, has her fun and when she's had enough that's it. She goes back up to the big house and her horses and soft feather beds, all smug because she's got one over on her old man."

"All the same. She has to marry that whatsisname eventually, doesn't she? He's old. And fat. And she can't go as she pleases. If they found out what she was doing she'd be locked up like a prisoner. Or worse. Nah. She can keep it. I may not have much, but I can do what I like and when I marry it'll be a man I choose. I'd rather be free."

Free.

Gojyo swallowed hard, his fingers closing around the money in his pocket.

"I can't say I blame her though."

"Yeah?"

"Well, he was cute, wasn't he? I bet you wouldn't say no."

Gojyo lit another cigarette and headed out for the temple as the giggles from the kitchens faded on the late summer breeze.

*******

That's the stupid thing about getting drunk. Makes a guy melancholy and sentimental and run his mouth off about things that are much better left forgotten.

At the end of his tale he'd put his cards on the table, face down because he knew, just knew that however good his hand, Hakkai's would be better. He scraped his chair back, was about to say something trite and stupid when he caught a glimpse of sympathy in Hakkai's intense green gaze. He couldn't bear it. He had to stare hard at the floor for a minute before he dared so much as move.

Eventually he stretched and forced a yawn. "I'm beat. Going to bed. You wiped me out again, man."

Hakkai wished him a polite goodnight, and set about tidying up a little before he joined him. But Gojyo couldn't sleep. So in the end, when the room was full of Hakkai's gentle, rhythmic sleeping breath, Gojyo had crept outside and watched the moon until it sank behind the trees. And now it was nearly dawn. The sun would be up soon, the sky already lifting from black to purplish grey.

He heard the door open quietly behind him, and Hakkai's soft footfalls on the path. He didn't look up, didn't need to; Hakkai's gentle presence took it's place beside him, and Gojyo lit another cigarette and watched the fading stars.

There was a gentle press of Hakkai's arm to his. Silent concern.

"Sorry." Gojyo shrugged. "Got a bit maudlin. You know. Remembering shit. The past's a bitch, isn't it?"

"It can be painful, yes."

"Live for the moment."

Hakkai smiled. "I understand about the torture of the past,"

"Someday I'll get you drunk," Gojyo summoned a grin. "Then you can ask the stupid questions."

"I could ask you about your first time with a man," said Hakkai, lightly.

Gojyo turned to look at him; all soft green eyes and patience. The look that had lit a fire inside the very first time he'd seen it. The look he'd missed so much when he'd thought Hakkai dead. The look that made him feel things he hadn't thought he'd ever really feel.

"You should know," Gojyo said. "You were there."

Hakkai looked confused. "But... Banri..."

Gojyo grinned and waved one hand, cigarette smoke spiralling lazily on the breeze.

"Well, y'know. Only one that meant anything," he said.

_~owari~_


End file.
